


Music

by flippantninny



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippantninny/pseuds/flippantninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the one word prompt 'Music'.<br/>What happened between Beth playing the piano that night and Daryl carrying her to breakfast the next morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music

Daryl couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep to the sound of music. It was definitely before the turn, and even then it wasn’t that he gently drifted off to peaceful music, it was probably more like loud, aggressive music that he passed out to while under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol and a very high Merle.

In his entire life, Daryl had never fallen asleep like this: listening to careful notes played on an out of tune piano, while a soft voice sang lyrics he’d never heard before. He shifted slightly in the coffin, closing his eyes, trying to savour the moment, to hear every word Beth sung, but instead feeling sleep slowly take over him. It was the most relaxed he’d felt since the first walker had crossed his path.

Beth thought he was laughing at first. Of course he was laughing, he didn’t really want to hear her sing, he’d made that clear in the moonshine shack. She was disappointed though, she had thought he had changed. She was beginning to almost be okay with losing the prison, because she had him.

She spun in her seat, about to tell him not to be rude and to make him apologise, when she realised it wasn’t laughter at all. Daryl was snoring.

Beth quietly walked over to the coffin. She was always amazed by how much younger Daryl looked when he was sleeping. Some of the wrinkles around his face smoothed out, the worries of the day seeping away into calmer dreams.

Beth turned, looking around the room, trying to work out where to sleep. Her eyes landed on the couch opposite the piano. She limped over, laying down on the small, uncomfortable couch, and she fell asleep to the sound of Daryl’s peaceful snores.

When Daryl woke up it was starting to get light out. The sun was still rising and it wasn’t bright out, but it was light enough to see the room around him. His first though was Beth, he turned to see her sleeping on the couch. She was sleeping in the fetal position, her hands balled up under her chin. It took him a moment to realise he was staring before he turned back round to take in the rest of the room. It was exactly as it had been when he fell asleep. He climbed out of the casket, swearing quietly when he tripped upon landing, managing to steady himself before making too much noise. He spun around to make sure he hadn’t disturbed Beth, who tensed her arms slightly before readjusting her head and continuing to sleep. Daryl sighed, grabbing his crossbow and slipping out of the room.

The noise traps they had left were untouched, the door still stood strong, and the rest of the house remained secure. Daryl had to admit, it was kind of a perfect place to stay. Someone was going to return at some point, he was sure of that, but Beth was right when she said they might not be bad. He wasn’t sure she was right when she implied he was a good person, but if even he could tolerate sharing the house, someone else might be okay with it too. There were good people still out there, Beth Greene might be the only one left, but she at least proved their existence.

Daryl wandered into the kitchen. The sun had completely risen and the white furnishings in the kitchen left it brighter than the rest of the house.

He placed his crossbow on a counter and opened the cupboard, reaching for a jar of jelly. It almost felt like home, like it was natural to just walk into a kitchen and help himself to their food. He was about to open the jelly when a thought crossed his mind: if he could live here with Beth, then this breakfast could be the first meal of many in this house. They could sit around the table and eat together and spend the days hunting and going on runs and the evenings eating meals together like a proper family. It was the first of many meals to come, and he didn’t want to spend it eating jelly alone.

Daryl turned back to the cupboard, inspecting the food. He grabbed the two bottles of diet cola and placed them on the table. One for her and one for him. Next he grabbed the peanut butter. Beth liked peanut butter, he knew that much, so he put one on either side, by the cola, and put a jelly next to one of them. He wasn’t entirely joking when he made the white trash brunch comment the day before, and in another lifetime he would have been mortified to lay out a white trash brunch for a girl like Beth, but something told him she would appreciate the comedic value of him giving her a jar of pigs feet.

He leant against the counter, inspecting his work. It wasn’t like they’d be able to have a breakfast like this every morning, but he was celebrating, they had a new home. He pushed himself away from the counter, walking back to the room where Beth was sleeping.

She still looked peaceful, it almost felt a shame to disturb her, but he was impatient to show her their breakfast and tell her he thought they might have a new home.

"Hey," he said softly, putting his hand on her arm and shaking her slightly. She stirred, sleepily opening her eyes and closing them again.

"Daryl?" she said, rubbing her eyes, "do we have to go?"

"No, no," he said, watching as she sat up, "c’mon, I have a surprise for you."


End file.
